A Very Harry New Year
by Resident Goddess
Summary: For a challenge. It's New Years at Hogwarts, and the gang enjoys a little bit of alcohol. Who knows where this will lead…and why isn't Malfoy drinking?


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A Very Harry New Year  
Rated: PG-13  
By: Resident Goddess

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its corresponding characters and elements belongs to J.K. Rowling and not I. This story does.

Summary: For a challenge. It's New Years at Hogwarts, and the gang enjoys a little bit of alcohol. Who knows where this will lead…and why isn't Malfoy drinking?

Warning: Slight slash…H/D, L/F

The challenge: 

You must include: an Amish person, some mention of 'bondage', glowing kittens, some mention of Malfoy wearing tights…

This challenge can be found at 2001: A HPFC Odyssey**, and is by **Linzy**.**

For Tine, since she so wanted me to write a thorough Harry/Draco fic. 

***

The Great Hall was still decorated in Christmas colors, with gold and silver streamers hanging from the rafters in a small celebration for the New Year. Fifteen year-old Harry Potter and equally young Ronald Weasley were seated on the floor by the Gryffindor table playing a game of exploding snap. It was New Years eve and their last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as innocents. Nearly everyone from the graduating class that year had stayed at school over the Christmas holidays, including the whole Weasley clan and quite a few of the 5th year students. After what they had all knew was coming with the war against Voldemort, it was almost a given that they wanted to spend their Christmas holidays together.

The clock was ticking down to the New Year, and it was already 6:30 in the afternoon at the castle. Ron was growing antsy for the celebration that was to take place in only two and a half-hour. Harry was equally excited, but kept his excitement contained, and spent his energy watching the game. So much for that…he was losing.

"Can we play chess or something else?" Harry asked, getting up and rubbing his bottom. The cobblestone floor was hard and cold, and he was stiff from sitting on it for an hour and a half. Ron had stood up as well, and he stretched sorely.

"Who's grand idea was it to sit on the floor?"

"Yours." Harry said, wincing as he massaged a cramp out of his leg. At that moment, Fred Weasley spotted the two and walked over with a jump in his step. Apparently he was excited about the party as well, as he was sporting a wide grin. 

"Uh oh." Ron said, looking his elder brother with suspicion, "Who ate one of your Canary Cremes now?"

"Er, no one, dear brother. Why would I inflict something so terrible as that on someone?" Fred asked, grinning wildly. Harry snorted into his hand and looked away. "No, no. George and I just happened to be downstairs in the, ah, kitchens, where we--"

"You spiked the punch, didn't you?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes.

"No!" Fred yelled, looking abashed. He leaned forward as if telling a big secret, "But did you know that they have _alcohol_ down in those kitchens? Where anyone could get at it?"

"_Fred…_"

"It was _calling _to us, Ron. Besides…have you ever seen a Slytherin drunk? I mean, do you want to have fun at this party or not?"

"Yes!" Harry cried, and then looked around to see if anyone was watching him, his cheeks reddening. Fred ignored him for a moment,

"You see, since Dumbledore is into this whole 'inter-house relationship' thing, he has insisted that _everyone_ be allowed at our little party, if they so wish. That is why he let us throw this little 'get together' in the first place. And everyone knows that Slytherins are a bunch of…flaming bastards anyway, and Hufflepuffs are duffers, and Ravenclaws are stiffs…the only way to loosen everyone up is to get them a little drunk!"

"Fred, isn't that illegal?" Harry piped up. Fred shot him a shocked look,

"Why, Harry! That you would even suggest a thing like that is murder on my soul! Of course it isn't illegal! Things are only illegal if you get caught! And are we, as the infamous Weasley twins, ever caught?"

"No." Harry muttered, kicking at a card under the table. 

"No? I can't hear you, Harry!"

"NO!!" Harry yelled loudly. A first year Ravenclaw looked at him worriedly and then scurried away.

"Right on, then." Fred said, and patted Ron on the shoulder, "I'll entrust you two to keep your mouths shut about this, and have a flapping good time at the party tonight!" He kept his back away from them and jogged backwards for a bit before falling on his arse. Ron had long since looked away from him, but Harry was staring at Fred with mixed fascination and horror. 

Harry had never been drunk before. Yes, he had consumed _quite_ a bit of alcohol, (and it was quite a bit) but he had never passed the stage from conscious behavior to 'screw-me-now-you-fool' behavior. It didn't worry him, he just decided that he had a high tolerance for alcohol. Ron had a small tolerance for alcohol, but he could hold his own after a few glasses. That few glasses were all it took, and Ron got into the 'don't-touch-me-you-grossie-wanker' mode. Yes, for Ron, alcohol was a definite depressant. Harry didn't know if alcohol was a depressant or not. He had never been drunk, so he considered for a long time what it would be like for him if he were to actually get drunk.

What met him was not a pretty picture.

So he put it out of his mind and went up to the Gryffindor common room to take a shower. Fred and George were busy putting up New Years decorations. Fred winked at him as he walked in, and Harry shook his head in disbelief and went to take a shower. Ron stayed downstairs to talk with Hermione, who was busy with her History of Magic homework and wouldn't give him the time of day.

When Harry came back downstairs later that evening, it was almost 7:30, and Fred, George, Lee Jordan and Katie Bell were all looking rather exhausted and lounging in the armchairs…but the common room looked nice! 

"Nice job, guys." Harry said,

"_Guys_?" Katie said, looking disgusted, George slapped her on the leg lightly and smiled cheekily.

"Er, everyone." Harry corrected himself and was about to sit down when Hermione appeared in front of him. 

"Harry, don't you have History of Magic to do?" She asked,

"Er,"

"You do realize that the hols end in two days, don't you? And from what I hear--" She leaned closer, "which I _highly_ disapprove of--there will be _alcohol_ at this party, and I'm almost positive that you won't be wanting to do any homework tomorrow." She bent down to pick up a kitten, which was glowing oddly--probably one of the twins' tricks--and gave him a stern look. 

"Right," Harry said, and turned around to sit at a table instead.

***

For the next hour and a half, Hermione had Harry doing homework. He got distracted when people started arriving at 9:00, and abandoned it soon thereafter. The party got into real swing at 10, but didn't really start until the Slytherins arrived at 10:30.

By that time, George and Katie were having their fun on the staircase up to the boy's dorms, and Hermione was looking rather flushed, as if she'd had one sip too many of her wine cooler. Ron though, _had_ had a bit too much alcohol, and Harry hadn't even gotten a buzz yet. Lee Jordan was busy trying to make a pass at Fred, who was keeping himself rather sober in light of the occasion. 

That was when the real trouble started. Obviously with the Slytherins you knew there was going to be trouble--but it wasn't entirely of the Slytherins doing this time. The Gryffindors, namely Fred and George, Lee, Colin Creevy and Ron, had established a game of 'I've Never' with a few random Ravenclaws and Slytherins. It was revealing far too much about certain people. Things that Harry would not have liked to know. Seamus Finnigan kept going on about his Amish Uncle and Blaise Zabini had told him more then once to shut up. Malfoy was sitting in one of the armchairs holding his drink, (which looked to be untouched) watching the scene with growing interest. 

Harry sat down on one of the other armchairs with a sigh, and looked into his third empty glass, growling slightly. The clock chimed 11, and a very drunk Parvati Patil jumped on the couch, which was occupied by a hiccuping Neville.

"Not thirsty, Malfoy?" Harry said, not looking away from the round of 'I've Never' in front of him. Malfoy looked down at his cup and then back up at Harry, cheeks reddening slightly. Harry missed the rare occurrence, however, because his eyes were still on the game. 

"I don't hold liquor well." Malfoy muttered, Harry turned to him.

"What, too scared to get drunk?" Harry said, slightly jealous. Malfoy could, after all, do something that he had been trying to do most of the night with just a glass.

"You do _not_ want to see me drunk, Potter." Malfoy spat,

"Hmm." Harry said, "I think you're a pansy, Malfoy."

"Don't get shirty with me, Potter. You're just mad that you haven't gotten drunk yet. Either that or you're just angry that you can't get in on the bondage between Jordan and Weasley over there." He jerked his head to a corner where Lee was pulling a very indignant Fred, who looked wistfully at Malfoy's full glass of alcohol. He hadn't gotten a drop since the party had begun. Lee silenced his protests with his lips, and Fred appeared to have forgotten about his drink.

Harry snorted into his own glass,

"Come _on_, Malfoy. Like you could be worse then _that_." He pointed to Neville who was trying his best to seduce Blaise Zabini. 

"_Please_, Potter. I've only gotten drunk once, and _once_ was enough."

"What did you do?" Harry asked, totally ignoring the game now. Malfoy looked away and muttered something about tights. 

"What was that, Malfoy?" Harry said, leaning closer to the other boy,

"TIGHTS! BUGGER YOU, POTTER!" Malfoy yelled and took a large swing of his drink, draining the glass and making a contorted face afterwards. "There, you happy?!"

"Very," Harry said, smiling and leaning back in his seat. He wondered how long it would take the alcohol to hit Malfoy's mental state.

***

Apparently Malfoy was right--he had no tolerance for alcohol. But Harry didn't regret getting him drunk--no, he didn't do that. A drunk Malfoy was very fun, very impressionable and _very_ open. It appeared that alcohol was a sort of Veritaserium for Draco, and Harry found himself having too much fun. 

"So Malfoy, when did you first lose your virginity?"

"What are you talking about, Potter? I haven't lost my verginibiby." Malfoy said, "It's still around here--somewheres." Malfoy said, curling up in the armchair, and blinking at him. Harry was shocked, but he kept a smile hidden behind his hand at Malfoy's use of the word 'verginibiby'. "When did you lose your vershaliwagon?"

"I haven't lost my _virginity_, Malfoy," Harry said with a smug grin, and Malfoy pulled a red and gold striped blanket from behind him and threw it over his lap. Oh how Harry wished for a camera right then. "but I was sure that you and Zabini--"

"Zabibney?" Malfoy said, Harry snorted, but held back a laugh, "As much as I would like to say 'yes', and as much as I would like to say 'no'," Malfoy looked slightly confused and Harry found himself thinking it cute. Hmm, maybe the alcohol _was_ getting to him.

"Yes?"

"What was I going on about?" Malfoy asked, Harry tried a different tactic,

"How much you liked Ron's red hair."

"Oh, yeah." Malfoy said and opened his mouth to start talking again, "Hey waidaminut, I don't like Weasley's red hair! If I liked anyone's red hair, it would be that--washhisname?" Malfoy said, pointing to George.

"George," Harry supplied with a wry grin,

"Right." Malfoy said, looking a little disoriented. "So, Potter, haven't been shagging Weasley?"

"No. I prefer blondes." Harry said and waited for a reaction.

"Humph, that's a load of shenikelads," Malfoy said, scrunching up his nose with the last made up word that came out horribly wrong, "there aren't any true blondes in this school, 'sept for some Huffleduffs."

"You aren't a natural blonde, Malfoy?"

"Of course I'm a natural blonde, Potter!" Draco said, hardly raising his voice, he was holding the blanket rather protectively around himself. Harry wanted to grab it away from him, it was unsettling, seeing Malfoy vulnerable, if you could call it that. "How dare you suggest otherwise!"

"Sorry," Harry seethed, and took another drink, but threw his glass away afterwards…this wasn't working. "Anyway, what's this I hear about you and Neville?"

"Longbottom?! In his wildest dreams." Draco said, but it lacked malice behind it. In fact, it sounded rather…weak. "He isn't my…type."

"No?"

"No, I prefer tall people. Although there are certain…adbantabges to being short, I suppose." Harry raised an eyebrow. Besides the obvious interest in Malfoy's last statement, Harry was more interested in Malfoy's complexion. He was looking rather…

"Potter--I'm going to be sick--where's your bathroom?"

Sick.

"Upstairs to the right."

"Upwaddywhatta?"

"Oh, come on." Harry hauled his arch nemesis up out of the stairs and led him into the boy's bathroom, where Malfoy promptly bent down over a toilet and wretched. No, he did not hold his alcohol well. Harry held back the urge to pull Malfoy's bangs back from his face, and instead filled a glass full of water and wetted a washcloth. 

When Malfoy was done, he was shaking something terrible. Harry helped him to the counter where he washed out his mouth and wiped his face off. 

"I told you, Potter." Draco said, his voice not as slurred as before, "No fun."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy? It _was_ fun." Harry said, helping him to the door, where he promptly fell down again. Harry sat down on the cool tile beside him.

"When you were going on about blondes before, Potter--"

"I was playing with you, Malfoy." Harry cut in quickly, his cheeks reddening slightly. The whole point in getting Malfoy drunk was that he would _forget_ about everything that they talked about. Malfoy didn't say anything, instead reached up and grabbed the glass of water. He took a little sip.

"That's good to know, I guess." He said. "Wouldn't want you stalking me or anything." He laughed a little. Harry's eyes knitted together. The clock struck 1, 2, 3…

Malfoy didn't want him to play with him,

4, 5, 6… 

He could hear the students downstairs counting the seconds down.

6, 5, 4…

Malfoy wanted him to kiss him…maybe.

3, 2, 

"Potter, why are you looking at me--"

1.

Warm lips on warm lips, hand on face, hands in hair, cheers below. The New Year had come, and Harry found his arms wrapped around Draco Malfoy.

A New Year meant new resolutions. Harry Potter could deal with that. 


End file.
